Thursday, December 03, 2009

Story by Linda John

Zena the Crocodile, and his friends.
- Story by Miss Linda John, published by Star Night

In a place called Wilmont in the Mexican city, there lived a crocodile named Zena who worked in the zoo. He was a clever and handsome croc. Most people appreciated him for his talent and looks. Yet he was very sad because he had no friend. When he got back home, he decided to start looking out for new friends.

The next day, he put up a notice on the main gate:

He waited eagerly for a response.

The following day, somebody rang the door bell. Zena saw a little girl with a serious expression, standing at the door.
Girl: I came here to be your friend.
Croc: Please come in.
Girl: My name is Meethi.
Croc: My name is Zena and I am glad you came here to become my friend.

The door bell rang again. There was a small furry thing, with four legs and a tail.
Meethi to small furry thing: I think you are a pup.
Pup: Yes I am. My name is Tim.
Tim to Zena: I came here to become your friend.

All were very glad that they had found friends for themselves. They wondered what game they could play together.
Meethi screamed excitedly: Let's draw and colour a rainbow.
Croc cried: But we have no hands to draw.
Tim chipped in: OK, let's play something like hitting the ball with the tail.
Meethi complained: But I have no tail.

Now they were clearly disappointed, bcoz they realized that each one of them was a different kind. It got dark. Impatience was growing in.
Meethi declared: We can never become friends. Let's all depart. Goodbye!
They went their own way.

Zena was very sad that he lost his friends. But he never again thought of making friends and never ever hung up any more notices.


* This story was handwritten by my dear sis MSA (a good 22 years back). I discovered it recently in a storybook, which I pulled out from the cupboard to read to my daughter. The paper was found neatly folded in a self-made envelope (torn on one side) and addressed from/to:

Star Night Magazines Company Limited

Miss Alice
London, UK

I fondly remembered those good old days, when we used to make up situations, where the whole drama unfolded before our very eyes. We used to make up characters and don their roles. My sister was almost always Linda John, sometimes a writer, sometimes a waiter, sometimes a cook. I was almost always Ann, sometimes an artist, sometimes an architect, sometimes a diner, sometimes a teacher. Our friend and neighbour (wonder where she is and what she does now) was almost always Alice, sometimes a rich estate owner, sometimes a princess, sometimes a beggar.

We used to pitch tents inside our rooms and play these games till the sun went down. I remember another game, for which we bought small earthern pots with our pocket money (which was sparse those days), put them on 3 bricks and firewood. Set fire, cooked food. One of our older friends used to do the cooking, and we used to wait for it to cook, so we could eat our fill.

Hmmm....those were the days indeed.